


The Queen's Eye

by Okase



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Blood and Violence, Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, Half-Elf, Original Character(s), Personal Growth, Religion, Religious Fanaticism, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okase/pseuds/Okase
Summary: Glimpses into the life and adventures of Danyla Vermuelen, a kensei monk and an agent from a theocratic nation that openly worships Tiamat. Not evil, just misunderstood, though still perhaps morally ambiguous. The character or the nation, you ask?Yes.Set in an original universe.Also posted on tumblr.Art of Danyla can be seen here.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Certainty

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be set in chronological order unless otherwise stated. Setting is called Caerllon.

“Nice work back there, by the way.”

Nerithyra’s soft, lilted voice didn’t so much cut through the silence as waft through it, like a pleasant breeze, tickling Danyla’s pointed ears and grabbing her attention. The half-elf turned around, flashing a toothy grin in response to her elven traveling companion.

“Thanks, you did pretty well yourself.”

Nerithyra shifted at the compliment, her cheeks going almost imperceptibly redder. Danyla filed the response away for later, for no particular reason. To the elf’s credit, she took the comment in stride otherwise, clearing her throat as she adjusted her deep blue robes, seeming to be momentarily fascinated by the stars embroidered neatly on the sleeves.

“Ah, well, thank you. I don’t get to use my abilities in such a…” She paused, her delicate brows furrowing ever so slightly as she pondered how to phrase things in a polite capacity, “In such a dynamic manner, back at the Tower. At least, not usually.”

Danyla’s smile grew lopsided as she tilted her head, just a little. “Well, color me more impressed then!. It’s not everyday I get to ride on the back of a giant eagle.” 

“And it is not everyday that I get to have someone backflip off me from an alarming height to land on an unsuspecting gnome.” The comment drew a chuckle from Danyla in response, and Nerithyra couldn’t help but smile as she added, “While also managing to land on their feet.”

“Eh, I usually do. Land on my feet, that is.”

Nerithyra chuckled, shaking her head, “You certainly don’t lack for confidence, Danyla.”

“I’ve got no reason to”, was Danyla’s response, given with a nonchalant shrug.

To an outsider to their conversation, it might have seemed arrogant, but to Danyla it was simply stating a fact. She had all the training she needed, she’d been skilled enough to be sent afar, and she knew where she was going, what she was doing there. What was there, really, to lack confidence about?

She supposed if she were going into this mission blindly, there might be the uncertainty of not knowing what might happen, but there was no such thing with Danyla. Even before she’d done her research at Nerithyra’s tower, she knew what she was facing, and why.

A month ago, she’d had a dream. 

There was a familiar purple glow, dark and shifting and infinite, full of stars and nebulae, that gave way to the impressive elven spires of the Tower of the Crystal Phoenix, large, grand, white in color, accented with warm reddish hues and tiles of gold. Lush, verdant forests surrounded the spires, which then gave way to more mundane forests; a small town; some plains. Eventually she came across the very mountains she’d flown over just moments ago. She’d seen everything from her vision so far on her journey, except for the final thing she was shown: In another town, a nearby town, stood a man, with a staff. Both were gnarled and twisted, like the roots of an old tree, and a contorted face lay atop the magical implement he held. With it, the man performed a ritual, runes tediously carved into stone, filling with blood, spilling over and being absorbed by the ground. The blood spread, the life of the area drained, violently torn, ripped from everything in the surrounding woods, the town, the people within. From the leaves of the bushes, to the blades of grass, to the small woodland creatures, nothing was spared. All of them succumbed, all of them shriveled, eventually crumbling to dust in the magic’s presence as the old man became a youthful one, bathed in blood and ichor, grinning to the sky.

With this dream, there were only two words, emanating from a commanding, authoritative voice: “Stop him.”

As with all of her similar dreams, Danyla found no reason to disregard this one. The voice, the glow, the cryptic messages, all of them were familiar, comforting, even. As she’d learned in her youth, it was her god speaking to her, warning her, protecting her.

All her life, Tiamat had been there for Danyla. From helping her avoid trouble, trips and falls and scrapes as a small child, to warning her of bigger dangers, things that threatened the very home she lived in and the people within it. The visions she provided helped guide Danyla down the best path. It wasn’t perfect- sometimes messages were too cryptic to understand, sometimes she misinterpreted them and made things worse. In a way, these visions were often a test, pushing Danyla to not only find their meaning but to act upon them.

The visions meant that she knew what she had to do, she simply had to figure out the specifics, and then act upon it. Tiamat guided her, but more importantly she empowered her, pushing her towards what needed to be done with the certainty that Danyla could and would overcome the challenges presented before her.

And with the certainty of a god behind her, what reason could she possibly have to doubt herself?


	2. Hobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A younger Danyla talks with her uncle about making time for yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place when Danyla is in her mid teens, and therefore takes place before the last chapter. I'm keeping the first chapter as the first because I feel it sumes up Danyla really nice.
> 
> So basically, I've already broken my chronological order rule lmfao

“Go away,” Danyla hissed at the door, “I’m _busy._ ”

There was a pause from the other side, then a familiar voice that Danyla hadn’t expected to hear.

“You can not spare a moment for your dear uncle?”

Now it was Danyla’s turn to pause, as she debated for just a moment whether to let him into her room. After some mild contemplation, the teen relented, looking somewhat sheepish when she opened the door for him.

“Sorry, I thought you were Aerileth.”

Uncle Bakul raised a ridged, scaly brow, looking over his niece with electric blue eyes. “What did your brother do to warrant that response?”

Danyla huffed, allowing her large dragonborn uncle to walk into her bedroom, where he dwarfed everything within, including her. “He’s being _annoying_. More than usual, I mean.”

“Uh huh.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, causing it to creak beneath his significant weight, “What has he done, exactly?”

Danyla scrunched up her face, then gestured to her desk. Bakul noted the open book and the papers beside it, and more importantly the large amount of crossed out notes upon them. He didn’t need further explanation, but he leant his niece an ear.

“I was working on my stupid studies, and he tried to ‘help’ me,” Danyla gestured with her fingers, making heavy quotations around the word ‘help’, “And he just did that stupid thing where he just starts doing my work for me instead like a big know-it-all!”

That sounded like his nephew, but what Bakul noted above all else was how frustrated Danyla was. She’d apparently been studying and working on her paper for hours now, according to Dareth. The dragonborn pat the spot next to him, voice calm, softer than his usual tone.

“I think he means well, but I think more importantly, you need a break. Come, sit with me.”

A crease formed between Danyla’s brows as she looked at him, then looked away, looking pensive. “I dunno, I really should finish my studies..”

“Being dedicated is good, but everyone needs a break. Come on.”

There was a defeated sigh from Danyla as she relented, sitting down next to him.

“Fine, but only ‘cause I’m getting a headache.” She blew loose strands of hair out of her face and grinned sardonically as she added, “So, what words of wisdom do you have for me today?”

It was hard for Bakul not to chuckle at the teen’s… _teenagery_ , but he managed, “I will ignore your rudeness for now because I do indeed have words of wisdom for you. And maybe something that will make you feel better, hm?”

Danyla stared at her uncle, incredulous, but was willing to listen. He was a large man, in all senses of the word, but without his armor, he looked strangely smaller, somehow. She wasn’t used to seeing him without it. He cleared his throat, gesturing with large scaled hands.

“You have been working incredibly hard, and I am proud of you for putting so much towards becoming a Talon. But everyone needs to rest. Push yourself when you must, but pace yourself. If you push yourself too hard, too fast, you will fizzle and burn and things will be much more difficult for you going forward.”

The frustration that had been building in Danyla manifested more openly now, her eyes narrowed. “So what, I’m supposed to wait around for my paper to finish itself? Aren’t I supposed to give my all with this stuff?”

Bakul did not rise to his niece’s ire. “You are, but part of giving your all is knowing what your limits are and when you need to rest.” He responded calmly, quietly, “ I know you will get your work done, sometimes you need to do things that are simply for your own enjoyment. Whether that’s nothing, or indulging in a hobby.”

Danyla’s expression softened, but when she didn’t look entirely convinced, Bakul put a hand on her shoulder.

“It is… natural to want to try our hardest, to push past our limits and beyond. Our faith makes us a people of action. And your faith,” He playfully poked Danyla lightly in the center of her chest, then her forehead, “Will push you through many things in life, get you past many hardships. It can save you in your darkest moments,” His smile faded, miniscule, and only for a moment, “But faith alone is not enough to sustain you.”

Danyla arched an eyebrow at her uncle at such blasphemous words. He chuckled in response, the rise of his cheeks temporarily hiding the tired lines beneath his eyes.

“What I mean to say is that there are things you need in life that cannot be provided by a church, or a god. Even ours. Sometimes you must take time for yourself.”

Danyla looked contemplative, albeit somewhat loathe to admit that her uncle had a point. Picking up on that, Bakul decided to lighten the tone of conversation.

“But I have not come here just to lecture you. Since I have had to take leave, your Uncle Dareth suggested that I bring out my old tambura again.” He laughed, a familiar fondness in his voice that was always present when he talked about her uncle, “He said I am rusty from being gone for so long.”

“I think I heard you playing this morning. You are pretty rusty.” Danyla grinned.

“My point,” He replied, brow raised once more, “Is that I thought I could use the practice, but more importantly, I thought I could teach you how to play. I thought it would be something we could do together, as a hobby. Just for fun.”

As Danyla blinked at him, Bakul pulled a leather case off his back and unhinged the latch keeping it shut, revealing a well-loved, old, but clearly cared for instrument. She’d seen his tambura many times before, when she was younger, but she hadn’t seen it too often in recent memory. Her uncle was always too busy, the small bits of time when he was home were often spent catching up with family members and reporting to the higher ups in the church. As she looked at him now, she noted the bandages peeking from beneath his shirt, the tired but warm expression on his face. She tentatively took the instrument from within it’s case, and held it out in front of her as she’d seen her uncle do many times before. She strummed a few horrible, off-key noises that did not deserve to be called notes, and finally, she smiled in earnest, bright and broad and full of warmth.

“You know, I’d like that, actually.”

Her uncle beamed at her, and shortly after, Danyla’s first lesson began.


	3. Parting Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danyla contemplates a ring given to her by a casual partner as a parting gift, and how departures are not always such a pleasant affair.
> 
> Takes place during the campaign.

Danyla would not see Matriarch Zhutar Redfang again. She twisted the ring that was gifted to her by the Matriarch, again and again around her finger.

The gift was a surprise, but having to part ways was expected, the usual. Just as the Matriarch had responsibilities to her clan that kept her in one place, Danyla had her responsibilities to her own people which kept her on the move. They were both very clear towards one another that their time together was short-term, casual and temporary.

Danyla was dwelling, however, which _was_ unusual. She frowned, twisting the ring again, noting the details. Carved from wood, a wolf chasing its own tail. Somewhat crude in design, but charming in a rustic sort of way. Zhutar clearly wasn’t a professional craftswoman, but she had potential. Or she would have, in another, less busy life.

Like Danyla, Zhutar was a busy woman. Unlike Danyla, she liked maces and preferred them to swords. Zhutar liked chamomile flowers despite hating the tea, and she enjoyed croissants despite not encountering them until a few days ago. She enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, the rush of adrenaline during a fight, and the moment right before she won, something her and Danyla shared. She had a good intuition and a sharp wit. She was forthright and honest in a way that Danyla was not and could not be.

If Matriarch Zhutar posed a threat in any way, she would have to be dealt with in a clever, calculated manner. A straightforward fight was to be avoided- she was too skilled a warrior for there to be a clear victor, and so that chance was best not taken. Poison, likewise, would not work- the training she’d been through had granted her an immunity, much like Danyla’s. The best way to deal with her would be to have her outnumbered and overwhelmed, preferably by her own clan. There would have to be a careful orchestration of evidence that she was not fit to lead her people, that would take a great deal of time but cause the least bloodshed. If there wasn’t time, the tension between the various gnoll clans within Argal Tyrick could be ignited quite easily, and that could be a decent means to the Matriarch’s end, if a messy one.

Danyla continued twisting her ring, and stared into the distance.

_There was no time for words. There rarely was, at the end of a mission. Everything was a flurry, a cacophony of grunts, yells, steel hitting steel, steel hitting flesh, none standing out above another as it was all simply loud, chaos, destruction. Almost as soon as it had started, the noise died down, leaving a chilling silence. Danyla stood there, Fang in one hand behind her, and the boy’s sleeve bundled up in her other._

_She’d been drinking with him the night before. There had been no plot against him, no desire to use him. They simply enjoyed each others’ company, foolishly seeing who could drink more, like children in adults’ bodies. They lamented the various torments of having brothers. He mentioned that he was close to something promising, that he almost had enough money to leave the shithole town they were sitting in. She’d wished him luck and bought him another drink. Neither of them knew they would be fighting to the death the next evening._

_He looked at her, recognized her. There was no time for words, but she saw the questions, the realizations, the bargaining and pleading in his eyes. For a brief, palpable moment, he hoped she wouldn’t go through with it._

_Wordlessly, she brought Fang down upon his neck, quick and precise. The hope fled in an instant, and there was a ghastly thud against the ground, and then, nothing._

She stopped twisting her ring, and her gaze was brought back to the present. Her time with Zhutar had not ended that way, and a small, quiet part of her was grateful. This time, she could simply enjoy the memories, enjoy the keepsake, and move forward without the pangs of what could have been.


End file.
